Chapter Twenty Five.
To the Rescue.
Alas! how easily things go wrong!
And there follows a mist and a weeping rain,
And life is never the same again!
George Macdonald, Phantastes.
Eden felt an immeasurable delight when Walter was allowed to come back to the dormitory, and now he thought himself happy in a perfect security from further torment.
But the two tyrants had other views. Harpour, at once passionate and dogged, was not likely to forget that he had been thwarted and defied; and if he had been so inclined, Jones would have not allowed him to do so, but kept egging him on to show his contempt for the younger and weaker boys who had tried to check his bullying propensities. On the last occasion when he had ordered Eden to go to Dan’s, Eden had taken Walter’s advice, and firmly refused to go. Harpour did not think it safe to compel him, but he threw out some significant threats, which filled the little boy with vague alarm and weighed heavily on his spirits. He did not tell any one of these threats, hoping that they would end in nothing, and, in case of any emergency, trusting implicitly on Walter for a generous and efficient protection.
But the threats did not end in nothing.
One night, after the others had fallen asleep, Eden, feeling quite free from all anxiety, was sleeping more soundly and sweetly than he had done for a fortnight, when a blaze of light, flashing suddenly upon his eyes, made him start up in his bed. Harpour and Jones were taking this opportunity to fulfil their threat of frightening him. At the foot of his bed stood a figure in white, with a hideous, deformed head, blotched with scarlet; bending over him was another white figure, with an enormous black face, holding over its head a shining hand.
In an instant the boy fell back, pale as death, uttering a shriek so shrill and terrible, so full of wildness and horror, that every other boy in the dormitory sprang up, alarmed and wide awake.
Walter and Henderson leaped out of bed immediately; and to Walter, who was unprepared, the start of surprise at what he saw was so sudden, that for a moment he stood absolutely paralysed and bewildered, because the shock on the nerves had preceded the recognition, though by an infinitesimally short time. But Henderson, who knew how Jones and Harpour had been going on, and what their threats had been, instantly, and before the abrupt and unusual spectacle had power to unnerve him, saw the true state of the case, and, springing out upon the figure which stood at the end of Eden’s bed, tore the mask away, stripped off the sheet, and displayed Jones’s face before he had time to hide it, administering, as he did so, a hearty blow on Jones’s chest, which made that hero stagger several paces back.
Although Walter saw almost at once the trick that was being played with masks, sheets, and phosphorus, yet the sudden shock upon his nerves not being absolutely co-instantaneous with the discovery, produced on him the effect of utter dizziness and horror. Henderson’s prompt and vigorous onslaught aroused him to a sense of the position, and with a fierce expression of disgust and anger, he bounded upon Harpour, who, being thus suddenly attacked, dropped upon the floor the dark lantern which he held, and hastily retreated, flinging the sheet over Walter’s head.
Walter had barely disentangled himself from the folds of the sheet, when an exclamation from Henderson attracted the notice of all the boys in the room, and brought them flocking round Eden’s bed. Henderson had picked up the dark lantern, and was kneeling with it over the unconscious boy, whose face was so ashy white, and who, after several sharp screams, had sunk into so deep a swoon, that Henderson, unused to such sights, naturally exclaimed—
“Good God! you’ve killed him.”
“Killed him?” repeated the others, standing aghast.
“Pooh! he’s only fainted, you little fools,” said Jones, who hurried up to look in Eden’s face. “Here, we’ll soon bring him too; Harpour, just get us some water.”
“You shan’t touch him, you shan’t come near him,” said Walter furiously; “stand back, you hateful bullies. Henderson and I will attend to him; and, depend upon it, you shall give account for this soon. What! you will come?” he continued, shaking Jones’s arm violently, and then flinging him back as easily as though he had been a child; “if either you or Harpour come near the bed I’ll fetch Robertson instantly. Eden would go off again in a swoon, if he saw such brutes as you when he recovered.”
In such a mood Walter was not to be resisted. The two plotters, picking up their masks, retired somewhat crestfallen, and sat down on their beds, while the rest, with the utmost tenderness, adopted every means they knew to recall Eden’s fluttered and agitated senses.
But his swoon was deeper than they could manage, and, growing too violently alarmed to trust themselves any longer, Henderson and Walker proposed to carry him to the sickroom, and put him at once under the care of Dr Keith. It was in vain that Jones and Harpour entreated, threatened, implored them to delay a little longer, lest by taking Eden to the sickroom, their doings should be discovered. Wholly disregarding all they said, the two boys uplifted their still fainting friend, and when Harpour attempted to interfere between them and the door, Cradock and Franklin, now thoroughly sickened by their proceedings, pulled him aside and let them pass.
Dr Keith instantly administered to Eden a restorative, and after receiving from Walter a hurried explanation of the circumstances, gently told the boys that they would be only in the way there, that Eden was evidently in a critical position, and that they had better return at once to their dormitories.
Walter and Henderson, when they returned, were assailed by the others with eager inquiries, to which they could only give gloomy and uncertain answers. They would not vouchsafe to take the slightest notice of Jones or Harpour, but met all their remarks with resolute silence. But before he went to sleep, Walter said, “I may as well let you fellows know that I intend to report you to Somers to-morrow.”
“Then you’ll be a damned sneak,” observed Harpour.
“It is not sneaking to prevent brutal bullying like yours, by giving others the chance of stopping it, and preventing little chaps like poor Eden, whom you’ve nearly frightened to death, from being so shamefully treated. Anyhow, sneaking, or not, I’ll do it.”
“If you do tell Somers, look out for yourself—that’s all.”
“I’m not afraid,” was the brief retort.
Harpour knew that he meant what he said, and, being now desperate, he got up half an hour earlier next morning to try and extort from him, by main force, a promise to hold his tongue about the affair of the night before. If he had at all understood Walter’s character, he might have saved himself this very superfluous trouble.
Walter was awakened by a shake from Harpour, who, with Jones, was standing by his head. He saw what was coming, for Harpour, who had a pair of braces tightly knotted in his hand, briefly opened the proceedings by saying, “Are you going to sneak about me, or not?”
“To sneak—no; to tell the head of the school—yes.”
“Then, by Jove, you shall have something worth telling; I’ll take my revenge out of you beforehand. I shall be sent away—think of that.”
“So much the better. One bully the less.”
“Oh, that’s your tune? Take that.” The buckle of the brace descended sharply on Walter’s back, drawing blood; the next instant he had wrested it out of Harpour’s hand, and returned the blow.
The scuffle had awakened the rest. Walter jumped out of bed, and was hurrying on his trousers and slippers, when Harpour knocked him down.
“Fair play, Harpour,” said Henderson and Franklin, angrily seizing Harpour’s arms; “you’re surely not going to fight him, Walter?”
“Yes; see fair play, you fellows; Cradock, you will, won’t you? Fair play is all I want. Flip, you see that Jones tries no mean dodge. Now, Harpour, are you ready? Then take that.”
Walter hit him a steady blow in the face, and the fight between these unequally-matched combatants—a boy not fifteen against a much stronger boy of seventeen—began. The result could not be dubious. Walter fought with indomitable pluck; it was splendid to see the sturdiness with which he bore up under the blows of Harpour’s strong fist, which he could only return at intervals. He was tremendously punished, while Harpour was barely touched, except by one well-directed blow which flashed the fire out of his eyes. At last he dealt Walter a heavy blow full on the forehead; the boy reeled, caught hold of the wash-hand stand to stay his fall and dragged it after him on the floor with a thundering crash, dashing the jug and basin all to shivers.
The smash brought in Mr Robertson, whose rooms were nearest to Number 10. He opened his eyes in amazement as he came in. On one of the beds lay the two masks and dark lantern which had been used to frighten Eden; on the floor, supported by Franklin and Henderson, sat poor Walter, his nose streaming with blood, and his face horribly bruised and disfigured; Harpour sheepishly surveyed his handiwork; and Jones, on the first alarm, had rushed back to bed, covered himself with blankets, and lay to all appearance fast asleep.
“Evson! what’s all this?” asked the master in astonishment.
Walter, sick and giddy, was in no condition to answer; but the position of affairs was tolerably obvious.
“Is this your doing?” asked Mr Robertson of Harpour, very sternly, pointing to Walter.
“He hit me first.”
“Liar,” said Henderson, glaring up at him.
“Hush, sir; no such language in my presence,” said Mr Robertson. “Cradock, do you mean to say that a big fellow like you could stand by, and see Harpour thus cruelly misuse a boy not nearly his size.”
“It was a fight, sir.”
“Fight!” said Mr Robertson; “look at those two boys, and don’t talk nonsense to me.”
“I oughtn’t to have let them fight, I know,” said Cradock; “and I wish, sir, you’d put Harpour and Jones into another room, they’re always bullying Eden, and it was for him that Evson fought.”
“Harpour,” said Mr Robertson, “you are absolutely despicable; a viler figure than you present at this moment could not be conceived. I shall move you to another dormitory, where some monitor can restrain your brutality; and, meanwhile, I confine you to gates for a month, and you will bring me up one hundred lines every day till further notice.”
He was leaving the room, but catching sight of Walter, he returned, and said kindly, “Evson, my poor boy, I’m afraid you’re sadly hurt; I’m truly sorry for you; you seem to have been behaving in a very noble way, and I honour you. Henderson, I think you’d better go with him to Dr Keith,” he continued; for Walter, though he heard what was said, was too much hurt and shaken to speak a word.
“Come, Walter,” said Henderson, gently helping him to rise; “I hope you’re not very much hurt, old fellow. That brute Harpour won’t trouble you again, anyhow; nor his parasite Jones. Lean on my arm. Franklin, you come and give Walter your arm, too.”
They helped him to the sickroom, for he could barely trail his legs after him. Dr Keith laid him down quietly on a sofa, put some arnica to the bruises on his face, and told him to lie still and go quietly to sleep. “He is not very much hurt,” he said, in answer to the inquiries of the boys; “but the fall he has had is quite sufficiently serious in its consequences to render absolute rest necessary to him for some days. You may come and see him sometimes.”
“And now, you fellow, Harpour,” said Henderson, re-entering the dormitory; “as you’ve knocked up Evson, and half killed Eden, I’ll tell Somers. Do you hear? and I hope he’ll thrash you till you can’t stand.”
“He daren’t; Robertson’s punished me already.”
“He dare, and will; you won’t get off so lightly as all that.”
“You’re a set of sneaks; and I’ll be even with you yet,” growled Harpour, too much cowed to resent Henderson’s defiance.
Henderson laughed scornfully; and Cradock said, “And I’ll tell the whole school what bullies you’ve been, Harpour and Jones.”
“And I,” said Franklin; “I don’t envy you two.”
“The school doesn’t consist altogether of such softs as your lot, luckily,” answered Harpour.
“Softs or not, we’ve put a spoke in your wheel for the present,” answered Franklin. “I congratulate you on the rich black eye which one of the softs, half your size, has given you.”
“They’re not worth snarling with, Franklin,” said Henderson; “we shall be rid of him and Jones from Number 10 henceforth; that’s one blessing.”
Chapter Twenty Six.
A Turbulent School Meeting.
I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,
And virtue have no tongue to check her pride.
Milton’s Comus.
Next morning, after second school, Power went to see how Eden and Walter were getting on. He opened the door softly, and they did not observe his entrance.
Eden, very pale, and with an expression of pain and terror still reflected in his face, lay in a broken and restless sleep. Walter was sitting as still as death at the head of the bed. A book lay on his knees, but he had not been reading. He was in a “brown study,” and the dreamy far-off look with which his eyes were fixed upon vacancy showed how his thoughts had wandered. It was the same look which attracted Power’s attention when he first saw Walter in chapel, and which had shown him that he was no common boy. It often made him watch Walter, and wonder what could be occupying his thoughts.
It was looking at poor little Eden that had suggested to Walter’s mind the train of thought into which he had fallen. As he saw the child tossing uneasily about, waking every now and then to half-consciousness with a violent start, occasionally delirious, and to all appearances seriously ill—as he thought over Dr Keith’s remark, that even when he was quite well again his nervous system would be probably found to have received a shock of which the effects would never be obliterated during life, he could not help fretting very bitterly over the injury and suffering of his friend. And his own spirits were greatly shaken. It was of little matter that every time he raised his hand to cool his forehead, or ease the throbbing of his head, he felt how much he was bruised, cut, and swollen, or that the looking-glass showed him a face so hideously disfigured; he knew that this would grow right in a day or two, and he cared nothing for it. But when Harpour’s blow knocked him down, he had dashed his head with some violence on the floor, and this had hurt him so much and made him feel so ill, that Dr Keith was not without secret fears about the possibility of a concussion of the brain. Yet all the sorrow which Walter now felt was for Eden, and he was not thinking of himself.
He was mentally staring face to face at the mystery of human cruelty and malice. The little boy, whose fine qualities so few besides himself had discovered, was lying before him in pain and nervous prostration, solely because malignant unkindness seemed to give pleasure to two bad, brutal fellows. Walter had himself rescued Eden by his consistent kindness from being bullied, corrupted, tormented—yet apparently to little purpose. That the poor boy’s powers would be decidedly injured by this last prank, was certain. Dr Keith had dropped mysterious hints, and Walter had himself heard how wild and incoherent were Eden’s murmurs. If he should become an idiot? O God! that men and boys should have such hearts!
And then and there Walter, while yet a boy, solemnly and consciously recorded an unspoken vow that he at least, till death, would do all that lay in his own power to lighten, not to increase, the sum of human misery; that he would study all things that were kind, and gentle, and tender-hearted, in his dealings with others; that he would ever be on the watch against wounding thoughts, and uncharitable judgments, and unkind deeds; above all, that he would strive with all his power against the temptation to cutting and sarcastic words, against calumny, and misrepresentation, against envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. These were the noble thoughts and high resolves which were passing through the boy’s mind when Power’s quiet footstep entered the room.
Power stopped for a minute to look at the somewhat saddening picture in the darkened room—Walter, still as death, deep in thought, his chin leaning on his hand, and his face presenting an uncouth mixture of shapes and colours as he sat by Eden’s bedside; and Eden turning and moaning in an unrefreshing sleep.
Walter started from his reverie and smiled, as Power noiselessly approached.
“My poor Walter, how marked you are!”
“Oh, never mind, it’s nothing. I had a good cause, and it’s done good.”
“Poor fellow! But how’s Arty? He looks wretchedly ill.”
“He’s in a sad way I’m afraid, Power,” said Walter, shaking his head.
“I hope he’ll be all right soon.”
“Yes, I hope so; but we shall have to take great care of him.”
“Poor child, poor child!” said Power, bending over him compassionately.
“Has Flip told Somers of Harpour?” asked Walter.
“I don’t know whether you are quite up to hearing school news yet.”
“O yes! tell me all about it,” said Walter eagerly.
“Well, I’ve no good news to tell. It’s a case of ponos ponoo ponon pherei, as Percival said when I told him about you and Eden. By the by, he sent all sorts of kind messages, and will come and see you.”
“Thanks; but about Harpour?”
“Well, Flip meant to tell Somers, but the whole thing spread over the school at once, before morning chapel was well over; so, Dimock being head of Robertson’s house, thought it was his place to take it up. He sent for Harpour in the classroom, and told him he meant to cane him for his abominable, ruffianly conduct; but before he’d begun, Harpour seized hold of the cane, and wouldn’t let it go. Luckily Dimock didn’t fly into a rage, nor did he let himself down by a fight, which Harpour wanted to bring on. He simply let go of the cane quite coolly, and said, ‘Very well, Harpour, it would have been a good deal the best for you to have taken quietly the caning you so thoroughly deserve; as you don’t choose to do that, I shall put the matter in Somers’ hands. I’m glad to be rid of the responsibility.’”
“Did it end there?”
“Not a bit of it; the school are in a ferment. You know the present monitors, and particularly Somers, aren’t popular; now Harpour is popular, although he’s such a brute, because he’s a great swell at cricket and the games. I’m afraid we shall have a regular monitorial row. The monitors have convened a meeting this morning to decide about Harpour; and, to tell you the truth, I shouldn’t wonder if the school got up a counter-meeting.”
“Don’t any of the masters know about Eden?”
“Not officially, though I should think some rumours must have got to them.”
“But surely it’s very odd that the school should side with Jones and Harpour, after the shameful mischief they’ve done?”
“Odd, à priori; but lots of things always combine to make up a school opinion, you know the fellows just catch up what they hear first. But who do you think is foremost champion on the school side—stirring them up to resist, abusing you, abusing Flip, abusing the monitors, and making light of Harpour’s doings?”
Walter asked “Who?” but he knew beforehand that Power’s answer would be—
“Kenrick!”
After this he said nothing, but put his hand wearily to his head, which in his weak state, was aching violently with the excitement of the news which Power had told him.
“Ah, I see, Walter, you’re not quite well enough yet to be bothered. I’ll leave you quiet. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye. Do come again soon, and tell me how things go on.”
Strolling out from the sad sickroom into the court, Power was attracted into the great schoolroom by the sound of angry voices. Entering, he found half the school, and all the lower forms, collected round the large desk at which the headmaster usually sat. A great many were talking at once, and every tongue was engaged in discussing the propriety, in this instance, of any monitorial interference.
“Order, order,” shouted one or two of the few fifth-form fellows present; “let’s have the thing managed properly. Who’ll take the chair?”
There was a general call for Kenrick, and as he was one of the highest fellows in the room, he got into the chair, and amid a general silence delivered his views of the present affair.
“You all know,” he said, “that Dimock meant to cane Harpour because he played off a joke against one of the fellows last night. Harpour refused to take the caning, and the monitors are holding a meeting this morning to decide what to do about Harpour. Now I maintain that they’ve no right to do anything; and it’s very important that we shouldn’t let them have just their own way. The thing was merely a joke. Who thinks anything of just putting on a mask in fun, to startle another fellow? One constantly hears of its being done merely to raise a laugh, and we must all have often seen pictures of it. Of course, in this case, every one is extremely sorry for the consequences, but it was impossible to foresee them, and nobody has any right to judge of the act because it has turned out so unluckily. I vote that we put the question—‘Have the monitors any right to interfere?’”
Loud applause greeted the end of Kenrick’s speech, and the little bit at the end about separating an act from its consequences told wonderfully among the boys. They raised an almost unanimous cry of “Well done, Ken,” “Quite right,” “Harpour shan’t be caned.”
Henderson had been watching Kenrick with an expression of intense anger and disdain. At the end of his remarks, he sprang, rather than rose, up and immediately began to pour out an impetuous answer. His first words, before the fellows had observed that he meant to speak, were drowned in the general uproar; and when they had all caught sight of him, an expression of decided disapprobation ran round the throng of listeners. It did not make him swerve in the slightest degree. Looking round scornfully and steadily, he said—
“I know why some of you hiss. You think I told Dimock of Harpour. As it happens I didn’t; but I’m neither afraid nor ashamed to tell you all, as I told Harpour to his face, that I had fully intended to do it—or rather I meant to tell, not Dimock, but Somers. Will you let me speak?” he asked, angrily, as his last sentence was interrupted by a burst of groans, commenced by a few of those whose interests were most at stake, and taken up by the mass of ignorant boys.
Power plucked Henderson by the sleeve, and whispered, “Hush, Flip; go on, but keep your temper.”
“I’ve as much right to speak—if this is meant for a school meeting—as Kenrick or any one else; and what I have to say is this: Kenrick has been merely throwing dust into your eyes, misleading you altogether about the true state of the case. It’s all very fine, and very easy for him to talk so lightly of its being ‘a joke,’ and ‘a bit of fun,’ and so on; but I should like to ask him whether he believes that? and whether he’s not just hunting for popularity, and mixing up with it a few private spites? and whether he’s not thoroughly ashamed of himself at this moment? There! you may see that he is,” continued Henderson, pointing at him; “see how he is blushing scarlet, and looking the very picture of degradation.”
Here Kenrick started up and most irascibly informed Henderson that he wasn’t going to sit there and be slanged by him, and that as he was in the chair, he would not let Henderson go on any more unless he cut short his abuse; and while Kenrick was saying this, in which he entirely carried the meeting with him, Power again whispered, “You’re getting too personal, Flip; but go on, only say no more about Kenrick—though I’m afraid it’s all true.”
“Well, at any rate, I will say this,” continued Henderson, whose flow of words was rather stopped by his having been pulled up so often—“and I ought to know, for I was in the room at the time, and I appeal to Anthony and Franklin, and all the rest of the dormitory, to say if it isn’t true. It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t meant for a joke. It was a piece of deliberate, diabolical—”
“Oh! oh! oh!” began a few of Harpour’s claqueurs, and the chorus was again swelled by a score of others.
“I repeat it—of deliberate, diabolical cruelty, chosen just because there was nothing more cruel they dared to do. And,” he said, speaking at the top of his voice, to make himself heard over the clamour, “the fellows who did it are a disgrace to Saint Winifred’s, and they deserve to be caned by the monitors, if any fellows ever did.”
He sat down amid a storm of disapprobation, but his look never quailed for an instant, as he glanced steadily round, and noticed how Kenrick, though in favour with the multitude, and so much higher in the school, did not venture to meet his eye. And he was more than compensated for the general disfavour, by feeling Power’s hand rest on his shoulder, and hearing him whisper, “That’s famous, Flip; you’re a dear plucky fellow. Walter himself couldn’t have done it more firmly.”
Then Belial-like, rose Mackworth, perfectly at his ease, intending as much general mischief as lay in his power, and bent on saying as many unpleasant things as he could. In this, however, his benevolent views were materially frustrated by Henderson, who made his contemptuous comments in a tone sufficiently loud to be heard by many, and quite distinctly enough to disconcert Mackworth’s oratory.
“As the gentleman who has just sat down has poured so many bottles of wrath—”
“Bottles of French varnish,” suggested Henderson—“on our heads generally, I must be allowed to make a few remarks in reply. His speech consisted of nothing but rabid abuse; without a shred of argument.”—“Rabid fact without a shred of fudge,” interpolated Henderson.
“If for every trifling freak fellows were to be telling the monitors, we had better inaugurate at once the era of sneaks and cowards.”
“Era of sham polish and fiddlestick ends,” echoed Henderson; and Mackworth, who had every intention of making a very flourishing speech, was so disconcerted by this unwonted pruning of his periods, that he somewhat abruptly sat down, muttering anathemas on Henderson, and flustered quite out of his usual bland manner.
“Something has been said about cowardice and sneaking,” said Whalley, getting up. “I should like to know whether you think it more cowardly to fight a fellow twice one’s size, and to mark him pretty considerably too” (a remark which Whalley unceremoniously emphasised by pointing at Harpour’s black eye), “or to lay a plot to frighten in the dark a mere child, very nervous and very timid, who has never harmed any one in his life.”
Next, Howard Tracy, addressing the meeting, running his hand occasionally through his hair, “would put the question on a different footing altogether. As to what had been done to Eden, he stood on neutral ground, and gave no opinion. But who, he asked, were these monitors that they should thrash any one at all? He had never heard that they were of particularly good families, or that they had anything whatever which gave them a claim to interfere with other fellows. The question was, whether a parcel of monitors were to domineer over the school?”
“The question was nothing of the kind!” said Franklin very bluntly; “it was, whether big bullies, like Harpour, were to be at perfect liberty to frighten fellows into idiots or beat them into mummies, at their own will and pleasure? That was the only question. Harpour or Somers—bullies or monitors—which will you have, boys?”
And after this arose a perfect hubbub of voices. Some got up and ridiculed the monitors; others extolled Harpour, and tried to make out that he was misused for being called to account for a mere frolic; others taunted Evson and Henderson with a conspiracy against their private enemies. On the whole, they were nearly unanimous in agreeing that the school should prevent the monitors from any exercise of their authority.
And then, in the midst of the hubbub, Power rose, “in act more graceful,” and there was an immediate and general call for silence. To the great majority of the boys, Power was hardly known except by name and by sight; but his school successes, his rare ability, his stainless character, and many personal advantages, commanded for him the highest admiration. His numerous slight acquaintances in the school all liked his pleasant and playful courtesy, and were proud to know him; his few friends entertained for him an almost extravagant affection. His ancient name, his good family, and the respect due to his high position in the school, would alone have been sufficient to gain him a favourable hearing; but, besides this, he had hitherto come forward so little, that there was a strong curiosity to see what line he would take, and how he would be able to speak. There were indeed a few who were most anxious to silence him as quickly as possible, knowing what effect his words would be likely to produce; and when he began, they raised several noisy interruptions; but Kenrick, for very shame, was obliged at first to demand for him the attention which, after the first sentence or two, his quiet, conciliatory, and persuasive manner effectually secured.
Reviewing the whole tumultuary discussion, he began by answering Kenrick. After alluding to the long course of bullying which had been ended in this manner, he appealed to the common sense of the meeting whether the thing could be regarded as a mere joke, when they remembered Eden’s tender age and highly susceptible nature? Was it not certain, and must it not have been obvious to the bullies, that serious, if not desperately dangerous results must follow? What those results had been was well-known, and in describing what he had seen of them in the sickroom only half an hour before, Power made a warm appeal to their feelings of pity and indignation—an appeal which every one felt to be manly, and which could not fail of being deeply touching, because it was both simple and natural.
“Then,” said Power, “the next speaker talked about sneaking and cowardice. Well, those charges had been sufficiently answered by Whalley, and, indeed, on behalf of his friends Evson and Henderson, he perhaps need hardly condescend to answer them at all. His friend Henderson had been long enough among them to need no defence, and if he did, it would be sufficiently supplied by the high courage, of which they had just seen a specimen. As for Evson, any boy who had given as many proofs of honour and manliness as he had done during his two terms at Saint Winifred’s, certainly required no one’s shield to be thrown over him. Would any of them show their courage by walking across the Razor on some dark foggy winter’s night? and would they find in the school any other fellow of Evson’s age who would not shrink from standing up in a regular fair fight with another of twice his own strength and size? Those charges he thought he might throw to the winds; he was sure that no one believed them; but there was, he admitted, one cowardice of which his two friends had often been guilty, and it was a cowardice for which they need not blush; he meant the cowardice, the arrant, the noble cowardice of being afraid not to do what they thought right, and of being afraid to do what they knew to be base and wrong.”
In these remarks Power quite carried his audience away with him; the strain was of a higher mood than boys had often heard from boys, and it was delivered with an eloquence and earnestness that raised a continuous applause. This, however, Power checked by going on speaking until he was obliged to stop and take breath; but then it burst out in the most unmistakable and enthusiastic manner, and entirely drowned the few and timid counter-demonstrations of the Jones and Mackworth school.
“Now I have detained you too long,” said Power, “and I apologise for it (Go on! go on! shouted the boys); but as so many have spoken on the other side, and so few on this, perhaps you will excuse me (Yes, yes!) Well, then, Tracy has asked, ‘Who are the monitors? and what right have they to interfere?’ I answer, that the monitors are our schoolfellows, and are simply representatives of the most mature form of public school opinion. They have all been lower boys; they have all worked their way up to the foremost place; they are, in short, the oldest, the cleverest, the strongest, and the wisest among us; And their right depends on an authority voluntarily delegated to them by the masters, by our parents, and by ourselves—a right originally founded on justice and common sense, and venerable by very many years of prestige and of success. At any rate, a fellow who behaves as Harpour has done, has the least right to complain of this exercise of a higher authority. If he had a right—and he has no right except brute strength, if that be a right—to bully, beat, torment, and perhaps injure for life a poor little inoffensive child, and by doing so to render the name of the school infamous, I maintain that the monitors, who have the interest of the school most at heart, who are ranged ex officio on the side of truth, of justice, and of honour, have infinitely more right to thrash him for it. Supposing that there were no monitors, what would the state of the school be? above all, what would be the condition of the younger and weaker boys? they would be the absolutely defenceless prey of a most odious tyranny. Let me say then, that I most distinctly and emphatically approve of the manner in which my friends have acted; that I envy and admire the moral courage which helped them to behave as they did; and that if the school attempts on this occasion to resist the legitimate and most wholesome exercise of the monitors’ power, it will suffer a deep disgrace and serious loss. I oppose Kenrick’s motion with every feeling of my heart, and with every sentiment of my mind. I think it dangerous, I think it useless, and I think it most unjust.”
A second burst of applause followed Power’s energetic words, and continued for several minutes. He had utterly changed the opinions of many who were present, and Kenrick felt his entire sympathy and admiration enlisted on behalf of his former friend. He would at the moment have given anything to get up and retract his previous remarks and beg pardon for them. But his pride and passion were too strong for him, and coldly rising, he put it to the meeting, “whether they decided that the monitors had the right to interfere or not.”
Jones, Mackworth, Harpour, and others, were eagerly canvassing for votes, and when Kenrick demanded a show of hands, a good many were raised on their side. When the opposite question was put, at first only Power, Henderson, Whalley, and Franklin held up their hands; but they were soon followed by Bliss, then by Anthony and Cradock, and then by a great many more who took courage when they saw what champions were on their side. The hands were counted, and there was found to be an equal number on both sides. The announcement was received with dead silence.
“The chairman of course has a casting vote,” said Mackworth.
Kenrick sat still for a moment, not without an inward conflict; and then, afraid to risk his popularity with those whom he had now adopted as his own set, he said, rising—
“And I give it against the right of the monitors.”
A scene of eager partisanship and loud triumph ensued, during which Power once more stood forward, and observed—
“You must allow me to remind you that the present meeting in no way represents the sense of the school. I do not see a dozen boys present who are above the lowest fifth-form; and I do earnestly entreat those who have gained this vote not to disturb the peace and comfort of the school by attempting a collision between themselves and the monitors, who will certainly be supported by the nearly unanimous opinion of the upper fifth forms.”
“We shall see about that,” answered Kenrick in a confident tone. “At any rate, the vote is carried.” He left the chair, and the boys broke up into various groups, still eagerly discussing the rights and wrongs of the question which had been stirred.
“So, Power,” said Kenrick, with a sneer, which he assumed to hide his real feelings, “all your fine eloquence is thrown away, you see. We’ve carried the day after all, in spite of you.”
“Yes, Ken,” said Power, gently; “you’ve carried it quocunque modo. How comes Kenrick to be on the same side as Jones, Mackworth, and Harpour?”
Chapter Twenty Seven.
The Monitors.
In the teeth of clenched antagonisms.
Tennyson.
The meeting over, Henderson, who had not seen Walter since the morning, flew up to the sickroom to tell him the news, which he was sure would specially interest him. As he entered, the same spectacle was before him which Power had already seen—little Eden restless, and sometimes wandering—Walter seated silently by the bed watching him, his legs crossed, and his hands clasped over one knee. The curtains were drawn to exclude the glare. Walter could read but little, for his eyes were weak after the fight; but his thoughts and his nursing of his little friend kept him occupied. Henderson, fresh from the excitement of the meeting, was struck with the deep contrast presented by this painfully quiet scene.
He was advancing eagerly, but Walter rose with his finger on his lip, and spoke to him in a whisper, for Eden had just dropped off to sleep.
Henderson shook him warmly by the hand, and whispered—“I’ve such lots to tell you;” and, sitting down by Walter, he gave him an account of what had just taken place. “You should have heard Power, Walter; upon my word he spoke like an orator, and regularly bowled the Harpour lot off their legs. It’s splendid to see him coming out so in the school—isn’t it?”
“It is indeed; and thanks to you, too, Flip, for sticking up for me.”
“Oh, what I did was nothing. But only fancy that fellow Kenrick fighting against us like this, and giving his casting vote against Harpour’s being thrashed! You’ve no idea, Walter, how that fellow’s changed.”
He was interrupted, for Eden woke with a short scream, and, starting up in bed, looked round with a scared expression, shuddering and moaning as he fell back again on his pillow.
“Oh, don’t, don’t, don’t frighten me,” he said appealingly, while the perspiration burst out over his pale face; “please, Harpour, please don’t. Oh, Walter, Walter, do help me.”
“Hush, my poor, little fellow, I’m here,” said Walter tenderly, as he smoothed his pillow; “don’t be afraid, Arty, you’re quite safe, and I’m staying with you. They only put on masks to frighten you; it was nothing but that.”
Bending over the bed, he talked to him in a gentle, soothing voice, and tried to make him feel at ease, while the child flung both his arms round his neck, sobbing, and still clung tight to his hand when Walter had succeeded in allaying the sudden paroxysm of terror.
Henderson, deeply touched, had looked on with glistening eyes. “How kind you are, Walter,” he said, taking his other hand, and affectionately pressing it. “I should just like to have Kenrick here, and show him what his new friends have done.”
“Don’t be indignant against him, Flip. I wish, indeed, he would but come into this room, and make it up with us, and be what he once was. But he did not even take the slightest notice of the letter I wrote him, entreating him to overlook any fault I had been guilty of, however unconsciously. I never meant to wrong him, and I love him as much as ever.”
“Love him!” said Henderson, “I don’t; his new line isn’t half to my fancy. He must be jolly miserable, that’s one comfort.”
“Hush! he was our friend, Flip, remember; indeed, I feel as a friend to him still, whatever his feelings are for me. But why do you think he must be miserable?”
“Because you can see in his face and manner, that all the while he knows he’s in the wrong, and is thoroughly ashamed at bottom.”
“Well, let’s hope he’ll come round again all the sooner. Have you broken with him, then?”
“Well, nearly. We are barely civil to each other, that’s all, and I don’t suppose we shall be even that now: for I pitched into him to-day at the meeting.”
Walter only sighed, and just then Power stole into the room.
“Hallo!” he said, “Flip, I believe you and I shall kill the invalids between us. I just met Dr Keith on the stairs, and he only gave me leave to come for five minutes, for he says they both need quiet. You, I suspect, Master Flip, took French leave.”
“I like that,” said Henderson, laughing, “considering that this is your second visit, and only my first. I’ve been telling Walter about the meeting.”
“The credit—if there is any—is yours, Flip; you broke the ice, and showed the Harpourites that they weren’t going to carry it all their own way, as they fancied.”
“I’m so glad you came out strong, Power,” said Walter; “Flip says you took them all by storm.”
“That’s Flip’s humbug,” said Power; “but,” he whispered, “if I did any good, it’s all through you, Walter.”
“How do you mean?”
“Why, first of all, I wasn’t going to hear animals like Mackworth abuse you; and next, but for you I should have continued my old selfish way of keeping aloof from all school concerns. It cost me an effort to conquer my shyness, but I remembered our old talk on Appenfell, Walter.”
Walter smiled gratefully, and Power continued, “But I’ve come to tell you both a bit of news.”
“What’s that?” they asked eagerly.
“Why, there’s a notice on the board, signed by Somers, to say that ‘All the school are requested to stay in their places after the master has left the room at two o’clock calling-over.’”
“Whew! what a row we shall have!” said Henderson.
“How I wish I were well enough to be out now,” said Walter. “I hate to be shut up while all this is going on.”
“Poor fellow, with that face?” said Power. “No; you must be content to wait and get well.”
“It isn’t the face that keeps me in, Power; it’s the bang on the head, Keith says.”
“Yes, and Keith says that he doesn’t know when you will be well if these young chatterboxes stay with you,” said the good-humoured doctor, entering at the moment. “Vanish both of you!”
The boys smiled and bade Walter good-bye, as they wished him speedy relief from Dr Keith’s prison. “And when do you think poor little Eden may come and sit in my study again?” asked Power. “I miss him very much.”
“You mustn’t think of that for a long time,” answered the doctor.
“How about this two o’clock affair?” said Henderson, as they left the room.
“Upon my word I don’t know. Sit next to me, Flip, in case of a row.”
“Are the monitors strong enough, do you think?”
“We shall see.”
The school was in a fever of excitement and curiosity. At dinner-time nothing else was talked of by the lower boys, but the upper forms kept a dignified silence.
Two o’clock came. The names of all the school were called over, and amid perfect silence the master of the week left the hall. Then Somers stood up in the daïs and said—
“Is Harpour here?—the rest please to keep their places.”
“I’m here—what do you want of me?” said Harpour sulkily, as he stood up in his place.
“First of all, I want to tell you before the whole school that you have been behaving in the most shamefully cruel and blackguard way, and in a way that has produced disastrous consequences to one of the little fellows. A big fellow like you ought to be thoroughly ashamed of such conduct. If you were capable of a blush you ought to blush for it. It is our duty as monitors, and my duty as Head of the school, to punish you for this conduct, as Dr Lane has left it in our hands; and I am going to cane you for it. Stand out.”
“I won’t. I’ll see you damned first.”
A sensation ran through the school at this open defiance; but Somers, quite unmoved, repeated—
“I take no notice of your words further than to tell you that if you swear again you will have an additional punishment; but once again I tell you to stand out.”
Harpour quailed a little at his firm tone, and at the total absence of all support from his followers; but he again flatly refused to stand out.
“Very well,” said Somers; “you have already defied the authority of one monitor, and that is an aggravation of your original offence. I should have been glad to have avoided a scene, but if your common sense doesn’t make you bear the punishment coolly, you shall bear it by force. Will you stand out?—no?—then you shall be made. Fetch him here, some one,” he said, turning to the sixth-form.
The second monitor, Danvers, quietly seized Harpour’s right arm, and Macon, one of the biggest fellows in the fifth-form, of his own accord got up and seized the other, Harpour’s heart sank at this, for Danvers and the other were with him in the cricket eleven, and he was not as strong as either of them singly.
“Now mark,” said Somers; “caned you shall be, to redeem the character of the school; but unless you take it without being made to take it, your name shall also be immediately struck off the school list, and you shall leave Saint Winifred’s this evening. You’ll be no great loss, I take it. So much I may tell you as a proof that the Headmaster has left us to vindicate the name of Saint Winifred’s.”
Seeing that resistance was useless, Harpour accordingly stood out in the centre of the room, but not until he had cast an inquiring look among those who embraced his side; and these, who, as we have seen, were tolerably numerous, all looked at Kenrick that he might give some hint as to what they should do. Thus appealed to, Kenrick rose and said—
“I protest against this caning.”
“You!” said Somers, turning contemptuously in that direction; “who are you?”
The general titter which these words caused made Kenrick furious, and he cried out angrily—
“It is against the opinion of the majority of the school.”
“We shall see,” said Somers, with stinging sang froid; “meanwhile, you may sit down, and let the majority of the school speak for themselves, otherwise you may be requested to occupy a still more prominent position. I shall have something to say to you presently.”
“Let’s rescue him,” said Kenrick, springing forward, and several fellows stirred in answer to the appeal; but Macon, seizing hold of Tracy with one arm, and Mackworth with the other, thrust them both down on the floor, and Danvers, catching hold of Kenrick, swung him over the form, and pinned him there. The general laugh with which this proceeding was received showed that only a small handful of the school were really opposed to the monitors, and that most boys thoroughly concurred with them, and held them to be in the right. So Macon quietly boxed Jones’s ears, since Jones was making a noise, and then told him and the others that they might return to their places.
Crimsoned all over with shame and anger, Kenrick sat down, and Somers proceeded to administer to Harpour a most severe caning. That worthy quite meant to stretch to the utmost his powers of endurance, and made several scornful remarks after each of the first blows. But Somers had no intention to let him off too easily; each sneer was followed by a harder cut, and the remarks were very soon followed by a silent but significant wince. It was not until a writhe had been succeeded by a sob, and a sob by a howl, that Somers said to him—
“Now you may go.”
And Harpour did go to his seat, in an agony of mingled pain and shame. He had boasted repeatedly that he would never take a thrashing from anyone; but he had taken it, and succumbed to it, and that too in the presence of the whole school. He was tremendously ashamed; he never forgot the scene, and determined never to lose an opportunity of revenging it.
The school felt it to be an act of simple justice, and that the punishment was richly deserved. They looked on in stern silence, and those lower boys who had in the morning determined to interfere, gazed with some discomfiture upon their champion’s fall.
“And now, Master Kenrick, you stand here—what, no!—Stand here, sir.”
Kenrick only glared defiance.
“Danvers, hand him here;” but Danvers stepped up to Somers and whispered, “Don’t be too sharp on him, Somers, or you’ll drive him to despair. Remember he’s high in the fifth, and has been a distinguished fellow. Don’t make too much of this one escapade.”
“All right. Thanks, Danvers,” said Somers; and added aloud, in a less sarcastic tone—“Come here, Kenrick; I merely wish to speak a word with you;” and then Danvers kindly but firmly took the boy’s hand, and led him forward.
“You said the majority of the school denied our right to interfere.”
No answer.
“Do you consider yourself in person to be the majority of the school, pray?”
No answer.
“We are all perfectly aware, sir, of your meeting, and of your precious casting vote. But you must be informed that a rabble of shell and fourth-form boys do not constitute the school in any sense of the word. And understand too, that even if the majority of the school had been against us, we monitors are not quite so ignorant of our solemn duty as to make that any reason for letting a brutal and cowardly act of bullying go unpunished. You have been very silly, Kenrick, and have been just misled by conceit. Yes, you may look angry; but you know me of old; you’ve never received anything but kindness at my hands since the day you were my fag, and I tell you again that you’ve just been misled by conceit. Think rather less of yourself, my good fellow. You ought to have known better. Your friend Power has shown you an infinitely more sensible example. You may sit down, sir, with this warning; and, in the name of the monitors, I beg to thank the other fellows, especially Evson and Henderson, who did their best to protect little Eden. They behaved like thorough gentlemen, and it would be well if more of you younger boys were equally alive to the true honour of the school.”
“I wish he’d be more conciliatory,” whispered Dimock to Danvers; “he’s plucky and firm, but so very dictatorial and unpersuasive. Besides, he’s forgotten to thank Power.”
“Yes,” said Danvers, “his tone spoils all. Somers,” he said, “you’ve omitted to mention Power, and the fellows will be gone in a minute.”
“I’ve been talking so much, you say it.”
“Not I; I’m no speaker. Here, Dimock will.”
“Ay, that’ll do. One minute more, please,” called Somers, raising his hand to the boys, who, during this rapidly whispered conversation, were beginning to leave their places.
“Somers wishes me to add,” said Dimock, “that all the monitors and many of the sixth and fifth forms wish to express our best thanks to Power for the exceedingly honourable and fearless way in which he this morning maintained the rights and duties which belong to us. You younger fellows know very well that we monitors extremely dislike to interfere, that we do so only on the rarest occasions, and that we are always most anxious to avoid caning. You know that we never resort to it unless we are obliged to do so by the most flagrant offences, which would otherwise sap the honour and character of the school. Let us all be united and work together for the good of Saint Winifred’s. Don’t let any interested parties lead you to believe that we either do or wish to tyrannise. Our authority is for your high and direct advantage; I appeal to you whether you do not know it?”
“Yes, yes, Dimock,” answered many voices; and before they streamed out of the ball, they gave “three cheers for the monitors,” which were so heartily responded to, that the hissing of Harpour, Kenrick, and others, only raised a laugh, which filled to the very brim the bitter cup of hate and indignation which Kenrick had been forced that day to drink. To be addressed like that before the whole school—snubbed, reproved, threatened—it was intolerable; that he, Kenrick, high in the school, brilliant, promising, successful, accustomed only to flattery and praise, should be publicly set down among a rabble of lower boys—it made him mad to think of it.
“A nice tell-tale mess you’ve made of this business, Power,” he said savagely, the red spot still lingering on his cheek, as he confronted his former friend; “I hope you’re ashamed of yourself.”
“I, Ken? no.”
“Then you ought to be.”
“Honestly, Ken, who ought to be most ashamed—you, the advocate of Harpour and his set, or I, who merely defended my best friend for behaving most honourably—as he always does?”
“Always?” sneered Kenrick.
Power turned on him his clear bright eye, and said nothing for a moment; but then he laid his arm across his shoulder in the old familiar manner, and said, “You are not happy now, Ken, as you used to be.”
“Why the devil not?”
Power shook his head. “Because your heart is nobler than your acts; your nature truer than your conduct; and that is and will be your punishment. Why do you nurse this bad feeling till it has so mastered you?”
Kenrick stood still, his cheeks flushed, his eyes downcast; and Power, as he turned away, sadly repeated, half to himself the wonderful verse—
“Virtutem videant, intabescantque relicta.”
Kenrick understood it; it came to his heart like an arrow, and rankled there; it made a wound, the faithful wound of a friend, better than the kisses of an enemy—but the time of healing was far-off yet.